The New Storybrooke
by Dragontiger96
Summary: What if Pan's curse succeeded? SwanQueen
1. Tick Tock

The New Storybrooke

Chapter 1: Tick Tock

_Tick_

Emma shuffled papers about her office in an effort to drown out shrill noise coming from the corner. Leroy was yelling in the corner with complaints about his _accommodations_.

"Then next time you should remember to bring a pillow," she mocked. Of course he was the only one who frequented the cell. He was the only one that _ever _entered that cell.

"I pay taxes, sister," he argued, "they should go to something besides lining your pockets."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Right, because I'm rolling in the dough," she replied. Granted, the office wasn't bad. After all, the paint wasn't peeling off the walls like her a few of her old foster homes, but it was hardly luxurious.

"Oh, please," he said, "you live in a mansion."

Emma bristled. The topic still was a sore spot in her personal life. "Not mine." She'd been there for what felt like years and still couldn't quite get settled.

"Doesn't matter," he stated. "The fact is that you live there now, so you can afford better pillows."

"Shut up."

"Can't change the truth, sister," he said with a mocking sneer.

A clipboard flew across the room. "Can it, dwarf!"

"Whoa," Leroy called out, "and they say I have anger issues."

Emma groaned with frustration. His smirk was just so irritating.

_Fuck this._

She left without looking back. The man could stew alone in the fish tank for a while as she went out for patrol. It was the perfect way to clear her head.

_Tock_

The smell of bacon hit her before the door opened. Ruby was waiting sitting on stool looking absolutely bored. The waitress immediately perked up at her entrance. The only other customer was Killian Jones.

"Sheriff," he cheerily called out, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Killian," she acknowledged the town's resident pirate. It was a label that naturally evolved from the fact that he had a hook instead of a hand, and he lived on a boat. Emma had seen prosthetics on some of her former bounties. None of them were hooks like that, and all of them were far more practical. It was almost as if he came straight out of a fairytale.

"What," he asked incredulously. "Not even a hello?"

"Coffee," Emma ordered before turning towards Killian. "Hellos are for people I like."

"C'mon, you like me." He shot her a smug smirk.

"I like people who don't cause trouble."

"Me, trouble? Never," Killian replied with a charming smile, as if that could substitute for innocence.

"Claims the man, I found in a bar brawl with Leroy last week."

"He insulted my mother." To be honest, it may have been a comment on how bright the lights were. He was quite drunk at the time.

"You tried to stab him with a bottle." She recalled walking in on the scene, which had thankfully not escalated to a blood bath quite yet.

"It was a fair fight between men. Besides, at least I didn't gut him with my hook." It was certainly an optimistic point of view.

"Weren't you only staying in town for a week? Why are you still here?" she accused.

"Gets lonely on my boat," he said with a shrug. "I'm hoping a certain beauty would join me for the rest of my journey, the town sheriff perhaps or even a lovely waitress." He winked at Ruby, who smirked in return.

She rolled her eyes, obviously tired of this exchange. "What do you want, Killian?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "As a matter of fact, I do have a small problem."

"Of course," she said.

"You make it seem like I only speak to you when I want something."

"You _do_ only speak to me when you want something. Now, what's your problem?"

His demeanor immediately changed. "Mr. Gold has my pocket watch. I'd like you to get it back."

"Why would Gold take your watch?" The man was a bastard, but not a thief, at least, not in the view of the law.

Killian laughed awkwardly. "I took out a loan and used it as collateral."

Emma casually took a sip of her coffee. Good, there was clearly a simple solution. "Pay back your loan then."

"I did!" he shouted. "The bastard's keeping it as interest. Please, Sheriff," he begged. "The watch is the last keepsake from my brother. At least speak to him."

She debated whether or not to help. Gold was a pain-in-the-ass when he was friendly and much worse when he wasn't. Still, her inner conscience screamed louder than her selfishness. Damn her better nature. "Fine," she conceded, "but you'll owe me for this.

_Tick_

The pawn shop was always filled with useless knickknacks. Emma seriously wondered if anyone bothered to buy this stuff. Then again, the shop seemed more like front for a money laundering scheme, though there wasn't anything illegal enough in Storybrooke to warrant such an operation.

Mr. Gold looked up as she entered the little shop. "Sheriff," he greeted.

"Gold," she returned.

"What brings you into my establishment?"

"I'm here about a pocket watch."

"Ah," he said. "I take it that our resident pirate has enlisted your help. Well, I'll have you know I did nothing illegal in obtaining it."

"You never do," she admitted.

"Then what are you here for?" he asked, "To negotiate on his behalf?" Then he smirked, amused by sudden thought. "Don't tell me you'll pay for his debt. You can certainly afford it."

"What? No," Emma replied. "I just want to ask if you can take anything else. The watch is a keepsake from his dead brother."

"My dear," said Neil with a patronizing voice. "The only other thing of value he possesses is that boat. Unless you prefer him homeless, this watch is staying with me."

Emma sighed. Of course that was the only other option. "No," she replied. "How about you don't sell it while he tries to muster up the cash?"

"I can't guarantee that. At the rate he's earning money, I'll be stuck with this watch for eternity. This is a business. I have to make a profit." Something in him felt extremely guilty about disappointing her. It was as if he wronged her in another life. So he decided to at least give her something. "Look, I'll hold onto it for a month. If he can't pay me back by then, it will go on sale. Does that work for you?"

She was somewhat confused. The pawn shop owner had never been that cooperative before, or was she thinking of someone else? "Umm…" she replied, "yeah. Thanks."

_Tock_

Jesus has a penis carved into his chest.

Emma gaped at it for a moment when she arrived at the dais. She had expected something more _serious_ given the way the nun was panicking over the phone. Well, at least no one was hurt, not physically anyway.

"This is blasphemy!" screamed Mother Superior.

It was also hilarious. Not that Emma would ever tell her. She was desperately fighting the urge to laugh as she stared at the crude drawing.

"You must do something about this," demanded the nun.

Emma shrugged. "I'll try," she said. There was little she could do without knowing the culprit's exact location.

"Sheriff, this is serious!"

"I know, but it's not like I can go searching every crevice in town for that boy." Of course she knew _who_ did it. This was a small town after all.

"But I expect you to try."

Emma was about to retort when her cell phone rang.

This time Emma was not laughing.

The tip of the clock tower now peaked past what was best described as a woman's privates made of Christmas lights. Leave it to teenagers to be preoccupied by phallic symbols and sex.

It was fun an all, except now the local businesses expected Emma to take it down. The normal workers refused to come after hours, a luxury the Sheriff didn't have.

Well, being the good natured citizens that they were, everyone helped out to disassemble the offensive display. Unfortunately for them, tearing down the thing was much harder than it looked. Emma couldn't figure out how some parts were even put up in the first place. She was pretty sure accessing those locations required defying the laws of nature.

She was hanging on a ledge when her fingers slipped causing her body to swing outwards. "Fuck!" she cursed while her left hand desperately clung on for life. Peter Pan was definitely paying for this.

Five hours and ten near death incidents later, Emma finally finished ripping out the lights and wires that supported them. She climbed down the ladder a final time. The others had already gone home and left with a quick wave before leaving.

Thank God no one else tried to call–

_Fuck_

She was supposed to call home if she was going to be late, and she was definitely late.

_Tick_

Emma stood at the door dreading what would greet her. Those damn kids caused more issues in her personal life than in the town. She contemplated for a moment on entering the home at all. But all her thinking was wasted when the porch light lit and the door opened.

Regina glared at her. "You're late."

"Didn't have a choice," replied Emma as she stomped into the house, boots and all.

Regina's mouth twitched as she watched the faint traces of dirt tracked into the house. "You should have called."

"Forgot," was the mumbled reply.

"That's hardly an excuse."

"Look," said Emma as she held her hands up in surrender, "can we get into this later. I'm tired, and just want to eat and go to bed." She maneuvered around the brunette and headed for the kitchen.

Regina stubbornly followed. "When would that be?" She hissed in frustration. They never properly talked. It was always _later._ "You're always doing this. Henry even asked where you were tonight."

Emma stopped in her tracks. _Henry, _of course she would bring him up. As if she didn't already feel like an ass. "I'm sorry, alright?" She shouted. "I don't like it any more than you do, but I'm the sheriff, and I have a job to do."

"Really?" asked the brunette. "It seems like you enjoy your job more than you do your family."

Lately, it felt like they fought every night. Emma couldn't seem to remember a time when they didn't. "You think I enjoy staying out chasing after teenage boys and rounding up drunks instead of eating dinner with my wife and son?"

"I expect you to at least to call to let us know that you'd be late, so we don't have to sit and worry."

"And I'm really sorry about that." Emma hung her head in dejection. She didn't know if she could ever get used to this_, a family_. She was a runner, always was, but this – this idea of having someone worry, of relying on someone else – was overwhelming.

Something in her voice set Regina off. Whether it was an undertone of fear or the lingering air of sincere regret, it made her think that perhaps Emma was not as invested in their relationship as she believed. "You can be _sorry_ from the couch." She hissed.

It made Emma frown. That over-luxurious back breaker made a shitty bed. "C'mon, Regina," she begged, "that's not fair. I said I was sorry."

"And your apology is why you're not sleeping in the car." Her shoulders slumped imperceptibly. "This isn't the first time, Emma." It was almost a whisper.

The blonde moved to grab Regina's hand, but missed as she got distracted by a glimpse of cropped brown hair in patterned navy blue pajamas.

_Was Henry smiling?_

It couldn't be. Children don't smile when their parents fight.

Before she knew it, her normally tidy wife returned with a set of blankets and haphazardly threw it on the couch. Well, at least Regina didn't want her to freeze to death.

Emma could only sigh as she watched the brunette walk up the stairs as the microwave finished its beeping.

_Tock_

The night was uncomfortably cold, though not for any physical reason. The bed felt too empty. She had yet to fall asleep, though the clock read three minutes past midnight. Their argument was hours ago, and Regina immediately retired to bed straight after. It didn't help. No matter how much she avoided thinking about their fight, or the fact that Emma was not beside her, her mind always wandered back to the dreaded subject.

_When had she become so needy?_

Part of her hated it. Henry was _supposed_ to be enough. His biological mother was never even a concern. Now here she was, unable to sleep without that warm body by her side.

Regina groaned in misery as she got up from the bed.

The living room was quiet except for Emma's even breathing. The brunette watched her for a little before the blonde spoke.

"What do you want?"

Regina blinked with surprise. "How did you –"

"I heard you come down," Emma interrupted.

"So you weren't asleep," said Regina. A part of her was happy. Perhaps she had the same effect on Emma as the blonde on her.

Emma sat up. "It's not like this thing was meant to double as a bed." She gestured towards the couch, and then stretched her neck to emphasize her discomfort.

Oh_, _well that's _disappointing._ Regina awkwardly stood there. Now she felt offended. To think, she was prepared to offer an olive branch moments ago.

The blonde sighed. "Why did you come down, Regina?"

Regina was effectively snapped from her thoughts. "I was going to invite you back to bed, but seeing as how you're fine. I think I'll just leave you here."

Emma immediately jumped to action. "Wait!" She was immediately hushed. Henry was still sleeping after all. "C'mon, Regina, I want to sleep in a real bed." Well, they did have a guest room, but a bed wasn't the point. "Besides, you can't fall asleep without me," she sagely finished.

This made Regina grit her teeth. Rather than respond, her hurt pride made her turn around to head back up the stairs.

"Wait, Regina," Emma begged, "Don't be unreasonable. I already said I was sorry. What else do you want?"

This made the brunette pause mid step before the stairs. Yes, there was a reason she came downstairs in the first place. "I want to know that you want this family." She focused her eyes on the step in front of her.

Emma stood up and wrapped her arms around Regina. "You know I do. I love you both."

"You certainly do not act like it."

"I know I should've called, but it doesn't mean I don't care about you."

Regina gripped Emma's arm. "I know being the sheriff isn't easy. I just…" She sighed, "I'm sorry. I overreacted." She leaned into the hug. "I just wish you could show it more often."

Emma hummed in agreement. She never thought about it, but holding Regina like this was really nice. She felt disappointed when the brunette broke away.

"What are you waiting for?" demanded Regina.

Emma's eyes snapped to the hand in front of her. She smiled when she reached out to have Regina intertwined their fingers. _Right_, this was how things were supposed to be. A family wasn't so bad.

As they fell asleep, somewhere in the distance the clock tower struck.

_Author's Notes: I originally wanted to finish this story before the mid-season premiere, but only got the first chapter. Review! I'd like to know if this project is worth investing my time in._


	2. Strikes of the Hour

A/N: I really apologize to all the reviewers for not responding. I wasn't kidding when I said my time was extremely limited. Still not sure if I should continue.

In this chapter, you'll be introduced to Henry inside Peter Pan's body. I do refer to evil Henry ("Panry" in my notes) as Peter and Henry at the same time. This may be confusing, but I will not change the practice. I have my reasons for doing so, and hope that context clues will be enough to determine which person I'm referring to.

–

Chapter 2: Strikes of the Hour

Rumplestiltskin stared at the ceiling, counting the seconds that passed.

_Tick tock tick tock tick tock_

He reveled in it. _Time_ was important, essential in the curse he created. Every moment was another step. It wasn't quite right to say that time was passing at the same pace as people perceived. It was slower. The seconds he counted were merely fractions of the second the town actually felt.

The isolation he had here – the awareness of time – would have driven him mad. Perhaps it did a little. After all, the only thing to do in a padded cell is reflect. And reflect he did. His mind constantly turned, over and over on what was, is and could be. Enough retrospection was enough to drive anyone mad, even the Dark One.

Still, he knew this was only temporary. His curse was meant to be broken, and breaking it was with every _passing _second.

_First Strike_

Henry shot up from his bed. Though faint, its echo was deafening.

_Impossible_

The bell tower couldn't strike. Time was frozen. Storybrooke _was_ his new Neverland. There was no Savior this time. Emma was here, right where he put her. She was trapped like everyone else.

_So how was this possible? _

Henry walked into the basement of the hospital the next day. It was their weekly trip to see the patients with Mary Margaret. As usual, the short-haired brunette paid a little too much attention to the sleeping prince in the corner. She didn't think anyone noticed. It was then he seized the opportunity to sneak down. No guard was posted. There was no need for one. No one had ever broken out before.

He stood on a borrowed chair to peak in the half-lit room.

"Hello, son," the boy called out.

Rumplestiltskin slowly turned his head to see the small slot in the door. "Hello, Papa." Oh, he knew why Peter Pan was there. His father only visited a few times to gloat when the curse was first cast. Apparently, taunting a mad man grew old fast. It's been months, perhaps years since the boy had returned.

Henry peered through the opening. "I've come to see how you're doing. How is life in a padded cell?"

Rumple could feel that sadistic smile through the door. "I've acclimated fairly well, don't you think?" He gestured at his surroundings where the only things of note were the off-white walls and spring bed where he sat.

"I'm happy that you've come to accept your role in this new world. You've made me proud, son." Henry peered further into the dimly lit room in hopes of making out Rumple's face.

Rumplestiltskin broke out into laughter. It certainly wasn't pride gleaming in those eyes. Peter Pan certainly had a sense of humor. "I suppose I have, but it's such a shame that I won't be enjoying it for too long."

The ruthless eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

"Know?" asked Rumplestiltkin. "I heard the bell tower strike same as you did."

"Why is time moving?" he asked.

"Well, you're the one who cast the curse. Perhaps you should tell me."

"And you're the one who created it."

"I did, didn't I?" The caged man replied with pleasure in his voice. "But I do recall including things like – oh – a Savior, for example."

"And I stopped her from being one," said Henry.

"Well, there's your problem then." It didn't matter if Rumplestiltskin told him the truth. Nothing Pan could do would stop the inevitable. "This isn't just some curse where you could simply throw a heart into some magic water. It _is _the ultimate curse. It took years of planning and shaping to create, and now you've ripped out the most. important. _parts_."Rumplestiltskin giggled as he felt the dark one in him rise to the surface. The Savior was meant to save, but she was trapped. The spell caster was to rip a hole in his heart, but Peter never had one! "You can't expect a tapestry to hold if it's poorly woven, dear Papa." The imp in him stood up and rushed to the door to look straight into those eyes. "Did you honestly expect it to last forever?"

Tired of these games, Henry slammed a fist on the door. "How do I stop it?" He shouted.

It was then a nurse finally came by and caught him. "What are you doing down here? Leave that poor man alone." She grabbed his arm and began pulling.

As he was dragged away, Henry heard the last shouts echoing down the hall.

"You can't stop it from unraveling, Papa. The curse was always meant to _break_!"

_Second Strike_

Peter Pan sat in the small cell in the Sheriff's office. Emma spent a large chunk of the morning hunting him down in the woods on the outskirts of town. His secret base was well hidden from the adults and a protected secret of the other orphaned boys. The sheriff suspected that she got fairly close, or Peter would not have voluntarily shown himself. His sacrifice to protect the secret of its location was admirable.

Nonetheless, Emma immediately cuffed him and threw him into the cell. She needed a little revenge. His little prank did cause the fight with Regina the night before.

"Why do you do it, kid?" she asked.

Peter was lounging on the single cot. He had long grown used to the smell of stale vomit embedded into the walls. "Bored, I guess," he lied.

"Really?" She looked incredulous. "Your pranks are way to elaborate to be out of boredom."

He shrugged. "I like the planning. The boys do the rest." Peter sat up and stared into her eyes. They weren't different from last week. He wondered if she even remembered that he was here then, or even the week before that.

Peter Pan realized a long time ago that things in this town were wrong. Everything felt _frozen. _There were repetitions everywhere. He saw them in the conversations people had, in the lessons his teachers taught, even in little things like what his foster mother made for dinner. It was as if everyone reset at the beginning of each day, and they couldn't remember doing the exact same thing yesterday or last week.

So he tried to make things change. It started out with small things, like helping out at the school or begging for something new for dinner. He realized that though time was frozen, people were good at adapting. They also tended to remember shocking things for longer. So he began to plan elaborate changes. Once he put Christmas lights all over town hall in the summer. The mayor looked pleasantly surprised that morning when she got to work, and that made him smile. Yet his nice acts didn't work that well. They were forgotten within hours.

Now he's begun tagging everything with a penis. The first time, no one forgot for an entire week, but the effect was wearing off faster and faster.

Something _had _to change.

The high pitched ringing of a spoon on the metal bars snapped him back from his thoughts. "Are you listening?" asked Emma. She was apparently giving him the lecture about respecting other people's property. He stopped listening to that one about two months ago.

Just as she was going to continue, his foster mother walked in.

"Ms. Tink," Emma acknowledged.

Ms. Tink looked ashamed as she profusely apologized, "I'm so sorry, Sheriff."

"You really need to keep a better eye on him." She shook her head. Ms. Tink was responsible for over a dozen of the orphan boys in town. Emma knew that the woman could do very little to prevent Peter Pan from running off again.

"I know, and I'm really trying," Ms. Tink replied. "Peter's really a good boy. He's only looking for some attention, and I do my best. I'm just so_ overwhelmed_."

Emma sighed. The small woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. "I understand, but I can't clean up his messes all the time. If he continues down this path…" She dropped off and got lost in her own unpleasant memories for a moment. "Well, it can lead to some pretty bad things."

"Please, Sheriff," she begged, "Let him go this time. It doesn't have to go into his record or anything, right?"

Emma looked at her with sympathy, and looked at the boy. Well, it wasn't as if anyone was hurt this time. "I suppose," she reluctantly agreed. It certainly would spare her the paperwork. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her, and she turned to the exhausted mother and said, "On one condition."

_Third Strike_

Regina was typing away at an ancient laptop in her office. She noted that perhaps it was time set aside money in the budget for proper equipment. Still, she had few complaints. The item performed as functioned, albeit somewhat slower than preferred.

The work to be done never ended. This was the life of the mayor after all. She had responsibilities to fulfill. The potholes needed filling; electric lines needed maintenance; even the forest was spreading into residential areas. Often she wished there was a magical solution to all the town's needs. Perhaps then she could confidently retire without going through another election.

Alas, for now she was inundated with paperwork. At least she could look forward to resting at home. As she signed another document, the sheriff decided to stroll in with an unnecessary amount of swagger. It was almost irritating.

"What are you doing here, Sheriff?" Regina pushed up her glasses as she looked up from the desk, while pointedly looking at the sheriff.

Emma shrugged. "On patrol," she replied, "thought I'd stop by."

"Well, your concern is appreciated, but I prefer you make better use of city resources."

"C'mon, Regina," Emma whined. "Nothing ever happens in this town. My existence is a waste of resources."

"You're certainly making a great argument for eliminating the sheriff's office." Well, the money saved could buy her a nice laptop, or a tablet.

Emma scoffed at the suggestion. "Then who would take care of all those prowler reports in the middle of the night. God forbid that those raccoons ever let me get any sleep."

"I'm sure Sydney wouldn't mind the double duty," Regina casually stated.

Emma laughed. She could only imagine the horror that poor man would go through once he'd have to bag one of those vicious bastards. "He'll be singing a different tune after a week of sleep deprivation and too much coffee. He'll be twitchier than a meth addict." The sheriff smirked. "Besides, I'm the only one trained to use a gun, _and handcuffs._" Emma leaned in close so their faces were just centimeters apart.

The mayor replied with a wicked smile. "That's assuming you can useeither_,_ _properly_."

"Oh, I –"

"Ma'am," Regina's assistant rudely interrupted. He strolled in without a second thought, causing the blonde to jump back. He continued to say, "The Daily Mirror is requesting an interview about the most recent incident regarding Ms. Lucas."

"For Christ's sake," complained Regina. "How is that woman's promiscuity any concern of the Mirror's? More importantly, how is it any concern of mine?"

Emma tilted her head with mild uncertainty as she answered the rhetorical question. "Well, she was the reason three men had a free-for-all in front of the diner."

The mayor rubbed her temple in frustration. "Fine, let them in." She nodded at Emma as the woman took her leave.

_Fourth Strike_

Regina walked into house with slumped shoulders. The day had been exceptionally taxing. Soon after the interview, she spent the rest of the afternoon arguing with the town council about how they would repair a sidewalk on Main Street.

What she was met with exceeded all expectations.

Emma was in a full length red dress with her back facing the entrance as she apprehensively begged the oven to hurry. Regina spotted matching heels in the corner, no doubt placed there after they became an obstruction. The counter was covered in takeout boxes from Granny's. She peaked into the dining room to see the lights off in favor of candles.

It was about then Emma finally turned around and noticed her presence. "Regina?" She looked embarrassed. "You're home early."

Regina shot her a pointed look. "Actually, I'm half an hour late."

The blonde laughed nervously. "I guess I was hoping you'd be an hour late."

"Really?"

"I mean, umm…" Emma dropped the towel in her hands and took Regina's hands into her own. "Surprise," she said. Technically, the dinner wasn't supposed to be a surprise. She had planned on asking Regina on an actual date before the mayor's assistant rudely interrupted.

Regina laughed, much to Emma's dismay. "This is…" With a brilliant smile, she kissed the blonde. "Thank you, Emma."

The blonde returned the smile with a smirk. "Tonight, I'm showing you how much I love you."

"I love you too," said Regina, "but where is Henry?" Neither had close friends to speak of.

Emma laughed nervously. It was true that no one would do them that kind of favor. "I kind of convinced Ms. Tink to take him tonight." She received a stern look. "Look, it's not such a bad idea. He can hang out with the other boys."

"The same boys who pull vulgar pranks around town?" she asked.

"C'mon, Regina, we need this," said Emma, "Besides, he sees them at school eight hours a day. Another few hours isn't going to teach him anything he doesn't already know."

With that, the brunette relented. Emma was right. They needed this time together. Their relationship had always been volatile, and lately it's been especially troublesome. "You're right, Emma," Regina conceded, "Let's enjoy dinner."

_Fifth Strike_

It was nine before Ms. Tink brought Henry back. His mothers happily greeted him as he walked through the door. They shared a secret smile that he couldn't decipher. It was unnerving.

_When had they gotten so close?_

He expected the false union would fall apart with time like so many other things in this flawed curse. If it weren't such a problem, Henry would've been entertained. It was ironic. The Savior and the Evil Queen, cursed to a failing marriage, actually managed to fall in love!

The evening he wasted with what was left of his Lost Boys. Well, they were still Peter Pan's lost boys, but he was no longer Peter. That boy made them _pathetic_. All they did was run around pulling sad little pranks in a poor attempt to grab attention. The Lost Boys were created to celebrate his youth. They were to play and fight as boys for the pure joy of it. They needed nothing else, especially not the affection of any adult.

When all the lights went out, Henry began his move. By the next morning, they would find only an open window, and a suitcase missing.


End file.
